


The Promise

by Wetislandinthenorthatlantic



Series: Tumblr Prompts [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Mollcroft, Molly the mermaid, One Shot, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-03
Updated: 2014-07-03
Packaged: 2018-02-07 08:29:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1892193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wetislandinthenorthatlantic/pseuds/Wetislandinthenorthatlantic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Come on in. The water is lovely.” Mer-Molly was now bobbing in the water beaconing to Mycroft.  “Hurry! I’m waiting! Don’t forget your briefcase!” the Mer-Molly giggled. “Oh well. Might as well drown as burn up. Makes no odds now anyway,” thought Mycroft using every last bit of strength to heave himself, and his briefcase, out of the boat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Promise

**Author's Note:**

  * For [therinian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/therinian/gifts).



> The prompt:  
> In 2000 words or less, can someone write a Mollcroft ficlet with the following things included….?  
> 1) An apple  
> 2) An interesting use for a tea cosy  
> 3) The phrase: “That briefcase is not a chew toy!”  
> 4) Someone crying (not Molly)  
> 5) A description of Molly without using “mouse” or “mousey”, or anything rodent-like.  
> 6) Mycroft losing a shoe.  
> 7) A telegram.
> 
> //
> 
> Here you go therinian! It’s a bit strange and unexpected — and you all might have to read it twice to “get it.” Thanks to thinkture for the beta.   
> Enjoy! 
> 
> //
> 
> I don't own these characters.   
> This work is purely for entertainment.

Mycroft was so hot. He was lying in a tiny boat adrift upon a vast sea. His lips were cracked and stinging from the sea spray. His eyelids were burned as was most of the rest of his exposed flesh. ‘Water, water, everywhere and not a drop to drink’. Mycroft was so far gone he couldn’t even remember where that was from. 

He rolled his head over to the side. Molly was lying there beside him. Or a version of Molly. This one had a glorious shimmering blue green mermaid tail. Mer-Molly was holding an apple up to Mycroft’s lips. She was urging him in to eat. Mycroft was so weak he only managed to take a small bite before he lay back down exhausted. 

Suddenly Mycroft could hear his name being called. Confused, Mycroft pushed himself up to see over the side of the boat. 

“Come on in. The water is lovely.” Mer-Molly was now bobbing in the water beaconing to Mycroft. “Hurry! I’m waiting! Don’t forget your briefcase!” the Mer-Molly giggled. “Oh well. Might as well drown as burn up. Makes no odds now anyway,” thought Mycroft using every last bit of strength to heave himself, and his briefcase, out of the boat. 

The water was cool on his burned skin. He was swimming deeper, following the Mer-Molly. She was giggling and motioning to follow her. But they were going too deep. Mycroft could feel his lungs burning and feeling like they were going to burst. He couldn't do this much longer. 

//

The knife wound had been relatively superficial. Mycroft had suffered far worse over the years. It was a post-op infection caused by the unhygienic conditions in the third world hospital that caused Mycroft to now lay in this exclusive and discreet hospital favoured by world leaders and royalty.

Anthea and Sherlock stood shoulder to shoulder staring at Mycroft through the window to his ICU room. 

“We started the antibiotics as soon as he arrived but…” the doctor’s voice trailed off. 

Sherlock squeezed Anthea’s hand tighter. 

//

Suddenly Mycroft rose to the surface of the water gasping and sputtering. He was in Mer-Molly’s underground lair. “Molly!” he shouted.

“You remembered your briefcase. Well done. You’ll be needing that.” Mer-Molly said as she pulled Mycroft up onto the slippery rock ledge. Mycroft looked over at Mer-Molly. “You’re naked.”

“Sorry. I’ll put my clothes on.” From behind a near rock Mer-Molly picked up what looked Mycroft’s mother’s favourite tea cosy and put it on her head. “Better?”

“No. Not really,” sighed Mycroft not knowing where to look. 

“Finish your apple,” said Mer-Molly. Mycroft took another bite of apple and closed his eyes. “…so tired…” “Mer-Molly put Mycroft’s briefcase under his head and stroked his hair as he fell fast asleep. 

//

Anthea and Sherlock looked at each other in surprise each wondering if they had imagined what they had just heard. “Get her,” commanded Sherlock.

//

It was the call to morning prayer that woke Mycroft. The air was still hot even at this early hour but the ceiling fans made a slight breeze. Rolling over onto his side Mycroft marvelled at the naked form beside him. 

Molly’s back was facing him. Her alabaster skin glowed in the dawns first light. Hips tapering into a delicate waist reminded him of a violin. Before falling off to sleep Molly had swept her thick brown hair up into a hasty bun on top of her head. Slowly Mycroft’s finger traced down Molly’s spine – caressing each vertebrae.

“Are you waking me up for a good reason? Molly giggled sleepily.

With Mycroft’s hand lightly resting on her waist Molly rolled over to face him. Mycroft smiled and let out a contented sigh as he looked down the full length of her.

With the muezzin finished, Mycroft could hear crying. Frowning he went to the open window. In the courtyard of the riad there was a beautiful woman in a black dress crying like her heart was breaking.

“She looks like someone I once knew.” Mycroft said quietly. “I had a PA once. What was her name? Agnes? Angela? Andrea?”

“Her name was Anthea,” came a sleepy reply from the bed. 

“Oh yes. That was it.” Satisfied, Mycroft reached out of the window and picked an apple. He took a bite and turned away from the window to once again gaze at the nearly sleeping naked Molly.

“Come back to bed. You’re not quite ready to go yet.” Molly said just as she fell asleep.

 

Mycroft looked at the briefcase on the chair and crawled back in beside Molly. 

//

Molly stood looking through the glass at Mycroft in his ICU bed. She still had on her lab coat, used purple rubber gloves hastily shoved into the pockets. Twenty minutes ago she was doing an autopsy. Now she was here, standing between Anthea and Sherlock. 

“Any idea why the only thing my brother utters in 36 hours is your name?” Sherlock’s question made Molly’s cheeks burn. She knew exactly why. 

// 

Three weeks ago Sherlock was furious. He had bolted out of Molly’s lab after his latest strop leaving Molly and Mycroft in a deafening silence. His caustic words had stung Molly and opened up old wounds for Mycroft. After a few moments Mycroft softly spoke. “Would you like to join me for dinner? We could lick our wounds together.”

The Italian restaurant was small and quiet. Molly and Mycroft shared a bottle of wine and a pizza. Without Sherlock the conversation was easy and light. Soon both were smiling and much to Molly’s surprise Mycroft had even said he was enjoying himself — twice. 

After dinner the delightful conversation continued during the short walk back to her flat. Molly invited Mycroft in when they reached her door. Neither had planned that they would end up snogging on the couch exactly three minutes after the door closed behind them. 

When Molly’s lips parted ever so tentatively and their tongues touched gently Mycroft felt like he had been electrocuted as a searing jolt of excitement zipped through every cell in his body. Soon Mycroft was feeling light-headed and his lungs were burning. 

Molly broke contact and gasped, “I keep forgetting to breathe.”

"Me too," replied a similarly panting Mycroft. 

Kissing again, Mycroft’s hand managed to wriggle its way under Molly’s shirt and began caressing each vertebrae up her spine. 

“Mycroft, we can’t. It’s our first date!” Molly giggled then let out a soft moan as Mycroft kissed and gently nibbled her neck. 

“A poor excuse. You have known me for years,” Mycroft whispered in Molly’s ear sending shivers down her spine. “The real reason we can’t is I am due to board a plane in a little over 90 minutes.” Mycroft sighed with disappointment. 

“We could be quick,” offered Molly as she slowly traced Mycroft’s earlobe with the very tip of her tongue. 

“I don’t want to be quick,” came the response from between gritted teeth. “You deserve slow and undivided attention for hours.” Molly was now licking Mycroft’s neck and then blowing across it making him mew. “And the thought that my hasty, and possibly lengthy, departure after our intimate relations would cause you any concern or anguish is unbearable for me.”

After a half-dozen kisses that reached all the way down to Molly’s soul she pushed Mycroft away and panted, “Then go. So you can come back. I’ll be waiting. Promise you will come back.”

Mycroft took a few deep breaths to bring his heart rate down. He looked deep into Molly’s eyes, “I promise.”

Mycroft was half way out the door when Molly suddenly called for him to stop, “Don’t forget your briefcase!” Molly handed it to him with a smile and a quick kiss on the nose before she shut the door.

Two hours and fifteen minutes later Mycroft closed the file folder and looked out the plane window at England getting smaller. He didn't try to hide his smile. It had been a long time since there was someone who was waiting for him. A reason to return. He had forgotten how nice it felt. 

//

“Stop using that briefcase as a chew toy!” Mycroft was screaming at a tiny green monkey who was ignoring him completely and still gnawing on the briefcase strap. 

Mycroft took off his shoe and threw it at the creature. He missed but the monkey was now more interested in the shoe and ran off to find it. 

Molly returned from the beach bar and handed Mycroft a frozen piña colada in a flimsy plastic glass. 

“Where is your right shoe?” She said frowning. 

“I threw it at that monkey,” said Mycroft very sheepishly.

“You expect them to let us back into the Four Seasons when you only have one shoe on?” Molly was giving Mycroft a look that indicated she thought him completely crazy. 

“I’m going to take the remaining shoe off and walk in like I own the place,” explained Mycroft.

“Ah! Feeling better are we?” Molly smiled and brushed her hand lightly over Mycroft’s cheek. 

“Yes.” Mycroft smiled happily at Molly. 

It was a lovely sunny afternoon. The breeze kept it from getting too hot. Molly was busy chatting away. Mycroft didn't say anything — he wasn't really paying attention. He just liked the sound of her voice. Mycroft kept eating his apple. When he finished Mycroft threw the core in the direction he had thrown his shoe.

Mycroft put his arm around Molly as they both faced the sun setting over the sea. “It’s almost time for me to go home.” Mycroft said quietly. “Will you come with me?” Molly snuggled deeper into his embrace and simply giggled happily. “I can’t. I’m already there.”

//

“I know they had dinner the night before he left.” Anthea explained as she and Sherlock watched Molly fussing around Mycroft. One of the useful skills Molly had was the ability to carry on a one sided conversation — which at the moment was coming in very handy. 

“Back to hers?”  
“Yes.” was Anthea’s almost too quick response.   
Sherlock’s eyebrows arched. The question remained unsaid.   
“No.”  
Sherlock let out a small sigh of relief and some of the weight of the last few days lifted. “Thank God my brother is a gentleman,” Sherlock smiled as he looked at his brother. “He’ll be back. He always keeps his promises.”

//

Mycroft was naked in bed, alone. His eyes blinked open. He stretched then relaxed as he wondered how long he had been asleep. It felt like days. 

His briefcase was on the floor beside his bed. “I wonder what I keep in here? I don’t think I’ve ever opened it.” Mycroft pulled the old battered satchel up onto the bed and he flipped over the soft leather flap and opened the long zip. 

Inside there was only one thing — a telegram. Mycroft smiled. He hadn't seen one of these for years. He held it in his hand for a while before making the decision to open it.

I'm waiting.   
Don’t forget to breathe.   
Molly 

Mycroft smiled and took a deep breath. Yes. That did make him feel better.   
He swung his legs off the bed and slowly rose to his feet. He walked over to the door and opened it. Mycroft could feel Molly take his hand and pull him into the most blinding white light he had ever seen. 

//

Molly, could tell from the flickering of his eyes under closed lids that Mycroft was about to wake up. She was desperately thankful that Anthea had whisked Sherlock off to the coffee shop moments ago. Molly pulled the uncomfortable plastic chair next to the bed and took Mycroft’s hand in hers. She kept talking as she held Mycroft’s hand to her cheek. Mycroft’s eyes slowly fluttered open. Molly smiled at Mycroft with tears welling in her eyes. 

“Hello Molly.” Mycroft sighed contentedly. “Now where were we?”


End file.
